


Keep Beach City Weird (Ronaldo x Reader)

by Bug_Spray



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, KBCW, Keep Beach City Weird, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, RADnaldo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2018-09-13 02:43:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9102925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bug_Spray/pseuds/Bug_Spray
Summary: You are on a summer trip to Beach City to meet your favorite blogger, Ronaldo. What mysteries will you discover?





	1. Chapter 1

        You looked down at the map in your hands. Beach Citywalk Fries... is just around this corner. He sure talked about it a lot, so maybe that’s where he hung out. Good, your sticky note is still on the back, with the speech on it. “Hello! I’m (y/n). I’m visiting Beach City, and I just wanted to say I love your blog! I was wondering if you would let me join you on your next expedition.” You had revised it many times, trying to make it sound like it was coming from a confident, powerful person. Ronaldo was stubborn when it is revealed his belief is wrong, so he’ll keep thinking that. At least, you hoped so.

        Finally, you reached the plaza where the fry shop was located. Still you didn’t see Ronaldo anywhere. You decided to order something in case he saw you. “Good morning.” You greeted the cashier. He looked 12. “Morning to you too, ma’am.” You flashed him a smile. “I’d like a medium order of hash browns.” The kid leaned back to give the order to who you assumed was the frycook.”Medium hash browns!” A deeper voice called back “Do they want Old Bay seasoning on it?” “No, I told you we aren’t _doing_ that!” The cashier looked a little embarrassed. You didn’t notice. Old Bay? As in, Ronaldo’s favorite spice? You leaned forward. “A-actually, I would like Old Bay on it,” you stammered. “Really? Cool!” The voice from the back got closer. A shining face pushed the kid out of the way. “You have **great** taste! ”

        “A-ah...” It really was him. Your face flushed. Shaking out of your shyness, you said something. “Hi, uh, I read your blog, and-” Wow, great first impression. “You read my blog?!” You hadn't expected him to be _that_ enthusiastic. His smile stretched wider. “Y-yeah, I think it’s pretty cool.” “You do?!” You half expected his face to split in half. Ronaldo regained his composure. “It’s always nice to meet a fellow weirdateer! Ronaldo Fryman.” He stuck out a gloved hand. You took it in yours. “(Y/n).” Ronaldo pulled away and looked at you like he expected you to say something. “Uh, I was wondering if maybe you’d let me tag along on your next weird-thing-look-atter.” Ronaldo seemed to know what you meant. “I’m actually going to check out some one-eyed crabs that are making nests in the snow. You could come along.” His excitement was contagious. “I’d love to.” Finally, you said something right.

        There was an awkward moment where Ronaldo forgot there was a counter between you, and slammed right into it. After recovering for a few seconds, he was off like a shot. When he reappeared outside the door, he had a bag with him. You assumed it was expedition equipment. “Let’s go!” Ronaldo grabbed your hand and started running towards the beach. You hadn’t expected physical contact quite this soon. En route, he started explaining his hypothesis. He looked back every few seconds to make sure you were listening.

        You hadn’t tuned him out, but you were also pretty focused on your hands. Touching! This was even more than what you hoped for. You focused on his hair. It was just as bouncy as you imagined it would be. Yes, you had done some minor stalking online. But who doesn’t? You hoped it wasn’t too creepy. Hellven forbid he find out. Ronaldo slowed down, but your momentum kept you going. “ _Woah!_ ” He held on  tight to your hand, but the sand was slippery and you fell anyway. “Ooh, sorry about that.” A hand lowered down to your face. You took it. Not actually using it to get up, you pulled on it enough to seem like you were. A spectacular view spanned in front of you. No, it wasn’t Ronaldo. A beach covered in snow. It was so pretty, you almost said “aesthetic” out loud. "Careful there, you could have landed on a crab." Your attention flipped back to Ronaldo. A daring smirk was plastered on his face. “You ready?” You returned the look. "You bet!"


	2. Cab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Ronaldo investigate the mutant crabs on the beach.

      You and Ronaldo made your way down to the shoreline, careful not to slip again. Ugh, the seat of your pants still had sand on it. "My theory is that the crabs are descendants of a cryogenically frozen pet of the 1%. When its spawn were revealed to be mutated, likely because the ice in the cryo chamber jumbled the crab's DNA, the owner threw them into the sea, where they sought breeding grounds in the ice because of the familiarity of the cryo chamber their DNA was conceived in." You pondered this for a moment. "Ice affecting the DNA would not change a crab's idea of a good environment for its offspring to develop in. It would want to stay in water, like most cabs. Maybe that's why it's in the ice?" Ronaldo's face went blank. A little bit of satisfaction coursed through you. But his smile quickly returned. "Well then, why did it go in the snow instead of the water? Also, you said cab." It was your turn to blanche now. "Uh, I suppose it could be an- arctic crab?" you fumbled. "Hmm. It doesn't look like an arctic crab though." Ronaldo was right, as an avid carcinologist yourself, it didn't resemble any arctic crab you had seen, or in fact, any crab you knew. You racked your brain, trying to remember any rare specie you'd only seen once.

      Suddenly, you had it. "Hey Ronaldo, didn't a one eyed crab pinch your hand in Rising Tides, Crashing Skies? Ronaldo didn't seem to register your comment. "You watched my documentary?!" He cleared his throat, embarassed. he wanted to seem serious in front of you, you concluded. "I mean, you watched it?" You shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "It's still on TubeTube. " Ronaldo looked very cute right then. He looked so happy, like a young child who had just gotten what they wanted for their birthday. The little voice in your head, the one that spoke before you could tell it what to say, made the decision for you. Keep this one. You quickly twisted your face into a look of admiration, wanting to see him happier. It worked. "Really?! What did you think?" Looking at him right then, you couldn't tell him anything but "It was amazing! The way you put the scenes together looked like it had been done by a professional. Props to Peedee, but what I really liked was the writing. So carefully revised, I couldn't have done it better myself. All around a 10!" Ronaldo giggled and blushed like a schoolgirl. "You really think so?" you flashed him a bright smile. "You bet! My favorite documentary ever! And I watched Cowspiracy." Ronaldo grabbed your hand. "I watched that one too! I think the answer is farming bugs." You looked down at your hands. Touching. he didn't seem to think anything was unusual about how often he touched you. For some reason, you felt defensive. You hoped it was just a whim.

      After his excitement died down, you returned to the problem at hand. "In fact, weren't the Gems fighting a giant one of these?" The puzzle pieces fell into place. "Can you hand me one of those?" You picked up the crab by its carapace and passed it to Ronaldo, warning him to hold it where you had. Inspecting it, Ronaldo found a small gem in the pupil of its solitary eye. "Aha! Just as I suspected all along. It's a gem!" You rolled your eyes. "I guess you just needed me to figure it out and tell you before you could realize it before we even started." He laughed. You liked the sound. "Ok... so what do we do now?" "I'm just tagging along. Isn't this your department?' Ronaldo came up with a genius reply; "I'm always open to suggestions." Sigh. "Well if I were you, I'd go talk to the gems." "Got it! What we'll do is.." He paused for dramatic effect. "Ask the Crystal Gems!" Ronaldo's glasses gleamed in the sunlight. "Wow, what an ingenious plan," you deadpanned.

      It was a hike to the temple, but you thought you made good time. Ronaldo talked along the way about his knowledge of crabs. "I always knew those dastardly decapods were up to something! I named them all Tamatoa, because he's evil." You argued over the moral alignment of your crushtacean. When you got to the temple, Ronaldo turned to you. He wanted you to say something again. "So, who's going to ask them? You're leading the expedition, and you've met them." Ronaldo's glasses gleamed. "Good reasoning, (Y/n)." You blushed, but only after you turned away. You weaved your way up the stairs with Ronaldo, and stood off to the side when he knocked on the door. Pearl answered the door. "Good morning, Ronaldo." She noticed you . "And who is this?" You opened your mouth to introduce yourself, but Ronaldo cut in. "This is (y/n). She's helping me with my investigation." Pearl offered her hand. You took it, with a curt "Pleasure to meet you." Smiling, Pearl got to the point. "Did you have something to ask?" Ronaldo had a valiant look in his eyes. "Indeed. We came to ask about the one eyed crabs on the beach. They have gems, so we figured you had something to do with it." Ronaldo looked a bit disappointed his theory was wrong. " _There are?!_ " Pearl shrieked. "I thought we got rid of those!" She looked around worriedly. "One moment please." She slipped into the temple. You shuffled your feet. She reappeared a few seconds later with the rest of the gems. A boy stood with them. "Hey there! I'm Steven." "Hello, I'm (y/n)." You recognized him from Ronaldo's videos. "Excuse me." The tallest one spoke.

      You watched in awe as they all jumped over the stairs and landed on the beach, even the kid, and started running towards the surf at an incredible speed. Ronaldo pushed up his glasses. "Pretty cool, huh?" You were still staring at the Gems. "Yeah. Let's come back tomorrow and see what they did." Ronaldo smirked." I thought I was the decision maker here?" You flushed. "Uh, I mean, if you-" He waved his hand. "It does seem like a rather ingenious plan." You both doubled over with laughter. Ronaldo walked you back to the fry shop, sharing his hypotheses of the Gems' possible courses of action, where you parted ways. Before you walked away, Ronaldo said "I wonder what they'll do with the _cabs."_ You scoffed and left. Your apartment was only a few blocks away, so you didn't mind walking the half mile alone. It gave you plenty of time to think about your day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (y/n): "But Ronaldo, (insert logical observation here)."  
> Ronaldo: "Don't get hung up on these minor facts. Truth is about more than that, truth is a feeling in your gut that you know is true! Truth is searching for anything that proves you're right no matter how small, and holding on to that, no matter what."


	3. Can't Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quick, connecting chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picking this story back up! Let's hope I've improved this past year.

Toss. Turn. Flip. Roll. You felt like a fry bit in a fryer. You had too much anxiety to lie still. You sighed and shuffled away from your bed. You couldn't get to sleep anyway. You plopped yourself down at your shoddy laptop. Your foot jumped and twitched despite your overwhelming drowsiness. Almost without thinking, you navigated to Keep Beach City Weird to look at Ronaldo's latest post. He had uploaded several pictures of the crabs, along with a shot of you that you hadn't noticed him take. The subtitle read ;" My weirdest fan came along!" // "That's it?" You thought? "Weirdest fan?" You heaved a sigh and walked to your window. You were certain you could see the fry shop from there. A sense of longing tangled around your stomach, pulling it toward the building. You reminded yourself that you only met him today, and you shouldn't expect too much from a first encounter. You had to get further than this. Tiptoeing up to the computer, (h/c) hair shielding your face as if you were hiding from the computer, you typed a quick invitation to meet at the arcade to Ronaldo. As soon as you hit send, you dove under your covers and giggled with nervous excitement. As the minutes ticked by however, your giddiness turned to doubt. What if he didn't want to see you again? What if he found you boring? Who did you think you were, waltzing into his town and expecting him to like you? Why hasn't he responded??? The realization hit you almost as hard as your palm hit your face. Duh, obviously! He doesn't want to go to a dumb arcade! He has imporrant things to do! The arcade isnt even old or run down. What a stupid idea! You scrambled to get over to the computer to fix your mistake, but before you could a message appeared in your inbox. Breathing deeply, you opened it. "Hey (y/n), I was thrilled seeing this. I was just about to invite you out again, but didn't know where. The mystery is solved! I definitely want to go, but would you mind if we took the long way around the beach? I want to see if the 1% are adopting the crabs as stylish new pets. Looking forward to seeing you!"   
Your heart bounced around like it was doing the chicken dance. You had no choice but to follow it. Words couldnt describe your relief, but a jig may. Composing yourself, you agreed on a date and time for the meetup and set aside several dollars worth of quarters. You couldnt sleep after that either, but it was the happy, good feeling kind of insomnia. You felt like a happiness taquito. Slowly, you drifted off into fry scented dreams.


	4. Play Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You learn more about Ronaldo between arcade games.

You spring out of bed like a rooster who loves his farmer. You walk excitedly to your dresser, one of the sparse pieces of furniture here at your vacation house in Beach City. Humming happily, you pulled your best clothes out of their special drawer. A white velvet tank top fit snugly around your thin waist, and skinny khakis clung to your lean calves. You pulled on a (f/c) cardigan, which was comfortably loose, yet still managed to accentuate your figure. You took your hair out of the pin curls you left them in overnight and watched your newly wavy hair fall gently to your shoulders. You looked great, and you knew it.  
You happily followed the rest of your morning routine, taking your time as to get closer to the hangout time. You were too excited, and still had time to kill. You browsed his blog for any mention if the arcade, and found that he had alluded to Meat Beat Mania as his favorite game. After giggling at the name, you looked it up online and memorized the rules (what little there was), and when you had finished it was time to go.  
You walked briskly, knowing but not caring that you would be a few minutes early.  
When you arrived at the fry shop, Ronaldo was already there. He was staring at the horizon in an almost lonely way. What interested you more, however, was the rest of his appearance. You thought he looked very handsome that day. The thought made shame flood your face. Why would you think that?! You didn't deserve to think something like that about him. Your throat seemed to shrink. Finally, you noticed his clothing. It seemed almost identical to what he wore yesterday. Your brow furrowed. He wasn't dressed up. Didn't he find this special?  
Of course not, you concluded. He obviously doesn't see this as more than two weirdateers hanging out.  
"(Y/n)!" Ronaldo boomed in his typical manner. "Morning Ronaldo." You replied, making an effort not to sound disappointed. "Wanna head over to the beach?" Ronaldo brightened visibly. "You remembered! Jane never remembered." You wondered what that meant. "Jane, as in your ex that you blogged about?" Oops. You shouldn't have said that. Ronaldo was now staring intently at you, at each of your features as though comparing you to something. You cleared your throat uncomfortably."I'm sorry, I don't mean to intrude-" you began, but was interrupted by Ronaldo holding up his hand. It was huge, but gentle. You didn't fail to notice.  
"It's fine. I was the one who brought her up in the first place. I suppose you'd like to hear more?" You nodded gently, as though you were trying not to scare him off. That same lonely look beamed through his glasses. "Jane was my ex, yes. We dated for 4 months and 9 days. At first, it was perfect. We both liked Koala Princess, Old Bay, and researching the unknown. But bit by bit, she slowly became more controlling. First, it was that I couldn't watch KP without her. Then, I couldn't talk to any of the Beach City girls who were under 40, then 30, then anyone. It continued like that for a long time before I realized it was no longer our relationship, but hers. Each time I conftinted her, she'd apologize and stop, but every time, she'd start again, faster than the last time. I loved her in the short periods between. Honestly, I still miss her. She's a beautiful person, but something was wrong with her." He looked back to the horizon dramatically, but what showed you that he wasnt hamming it up was his eyes. You knew that look. A sickly sweet mix of longing, frustration, and grief. It was addictive to wallow in.  
He looked at you again. " I'd n-never, I mean I can't imagine- the -uh" Ronaldo smirked. "You weren't planning on dating me, were you?" You were taken aback. "W-what? No, no way, what are you talking about? I mean I don't know, unless maybe-" Ronaldo boomed out a laugh. You joined him, forcing it as hard as you could. He immediately dropped the subject and started talking about sneeple as you carved your way through the beach and to the arcade. Why did he stop so suddenly? Was he grossed out? Or was he just nervous? You couldn't get your mind off of it, even as you played Meat Beat Mania. It definitely threw off your game, but Ronaldo didnt seem to mind. When you ran out of quarters, you both started back toward the fry shack.  
In front of the pizza shop, Ronaldo stopped. "(Y/n)..." Your heart hid behind itself. "Did you... did you actally want to date me?" You launched back into babbling." Well um, I'm only staying here for the summer, and I wouldn't want to-" Ronaldo grabbed your hand again. "(Y/n)." His gaze seemed to clear your mind. Your small shoulders rose to point toward his wide ones. "Yes." you breathed. A small smile graced Ronaldo's face. It was a smile that you wouldn't think someone of Ronaldo's stature could pull off. He was about to say something when his watch went off.  
"Darn, I have to go back to work. I'll see you later?" He looked at you hopefully. "Of course," you replied, almost too quickly, but he didn't seem to notice. "I'll um, message you?" That small, sweet smile returned. "Great. Bye, (Y/n)." He squeezed your hands lightly before dropping them and turning to walk away. "Ronaldo, wait." Said a voice you didn't command. Your rebel feet took a step towards him and your rebel toes pushed your face close to his. It was your own lips though, who placed a light kiss on his cheek. No more small smiles from him. A huge grin spread across his face like condensation running down a glass, growing larger as it went. Two arms, slightly buff from lifting potatoes wrapped around you. The hug he gave you though was very light, as if he were afraid your delicate frame might give way. "Ronaldo! Put whatever that is down and get back to work!" Called a voice so squeaky you were certain it was spoken by a boy in the peal of puberty. Ronaldo straightened back up like a tree falling upward.  
"One second Peedee!" The boy who came into view as Ronaldo turned looked very surprised to see him anywhere near a girl, much less hugging her. Ronaldo turned back toward you. "I wish we had more time. See you, for real this time." With another pageant winning smile, he spun on his heelie and sauntered back to the shack. You watched him go and waved to the boy, assumably Peedee, who was still staring. You skipped all the way home with a bright feeling in your heart.


	5. Muffin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a lil filler chapter while I get back into it.

"Hey! Can you see this message?" You carefully typed. No embarrassing typos in front of Ronaldo.  
"Yeah how about mune?" Ronaldo didnt seem to have the same worries. "I really like this messaging app. I like simple stuff." "Maybe it only appears simple on the surface," Ronaldo typed, "and it's actually spyware for sneeple!" Oof. You enjoyed spending time with Ronaldo, but sometimes he didn't know when to tone it down. "Jk. I like this app too." Oh, good. A rare lowkey conversation.  
Hurriedly, you thought of a converation starter before the small talk started to drag on. "I've been thinking about the concept of childhood pets recently," you began. "Putting trust and fondness into something other than your family or a stuffed animal. I wonder how that affects someone growing up." You saw typing dots appear immediately. "I've thought the same thing! Having to actually care for something rather than being able to leave it alone once you get bored. Does it teach responsibility? Well, yeah. But what about something else? I think pets teach children about true companionship. Sea Monkeys never betray you, and I think it's important for a child to have something they can rely on that also relies on them during their formative years."  
"Whoa Ronaldo, was that off the top of your head? That's profound." You were taken aback by this sudden outpouring of wisdom. You hadn't read anything like this on his blog, so you weren't sure how to react. You decided to move the conversation along with a simple filler question. "Did you have a childood pet?" Ronaldo responded quickly, a skill acquired through years of keyboard surfing. " Well, not of the sort you're thinking of. I'm not sure you could even call it a pet. I found Muffin when we were cleaning out an old potato bin. He was perched between two eyes of a rotten potato, stretched out to form a smiley face. That's when I decidem to save him from being thrown out." He still hadn't told you what it was.  
"Why wouldn't that count as a pet? What was it, a caterpillar? A lizard?" You guessed blindly. "Oh yeah," Ronaldo replied lightning fast. "Muffin was a mushroom." You quickly texted a shocked emoji. :-○ "When you think about it, mushrooms are kinda shaped like long, skinny muffins. Anyway, after I saved him, I hid him in a shoebox under my bed. In a week or two, he ate the whole potato under my caring watch. I started sneaking him more old potatoes and a fresh one when I could get it. Sometimes, I even gave him a bit of my supply of Old Bay Seasoning, which he seemed to like more. Who knew mushrooms had good taste? I really loved that little dude. I looked on a plant encyclopedia, which I am a user/editor of, and found that he was non toxic. After that discovery, I gave him head scratches and kisses every day."  
;-( ):-P you texted. Kissing a mushroom? That sounds like a superhero origin story. "Weird, but you know how I feel about keeping things weird! :) ! My family couldn't have pets in our apartment, so Muffin was the closest I got. Still, he did his job as being my rock, and I could always count on his slightly sweet aroma to greet me when I got home from a bad day at school. Sorry hon, I'm droning on. Did you have any childhood pets, (y/n)?"  
Half of your brain dedicated to squealing about his use of hon, you answered absentmindedly. "A couple, but the one closest to my heart was Mergatroid the Stick the Second." Your brain went into autopilot. "Sounds exotic. What was he?" Ronaldo inquired. "He was my snake. My second, actually. I loved the first so much, I had to get another! I just love reptiles." A few seconds passed.  
"A SNAAAAAAAAAAAKE?!?!?!?!?!"  
Oh boy.


	6. Good Things Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You invite Ronaldo over to your vacation home. What magic will happen when he gets his hands on a couple potatoes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one folks. Make sure you have a lot of time to yourself, and enjoy!

"Thank you for inviting me over, (y/n)." Ronaldo said courteously. You nodded graciously. You'd always had a soft spot for polite boys. Suddenly, his eyes lit up and Ronaldo hurried over to the window facing the sea. "Wow, I had no idea this was your house! Whenever anyone passes by here, they remark on this huge window and what it would be like to live here." You gazed out to the quietly churning sea. For the first time, you noticed the window you were looking through. It was floor to ceiling and spread across the entire seaward side of the house. Your family never had any money problems, so you could easily afford a 2500 sqft. beach house and pay for maintenance while you were away 50 weeks out of the year. You winced a bit as you thought of Ronaldo's tiny, modest apartment above the fry shop. Glancing over, Ronaldo was still staring complacently out the window with his hands pressed to the window, his shirt cuffs politely pulled over his palms so that they wouldn't smudge the glass as he searched for patterns in the beckoning waves. "Yeah, it's kinda big, I guess..." Ronaldo rolled his eyes goodnaturedly and let out a little sigh through his nose. "Oh, really..." He said quietly, his voice dropping into a deep, gravelly register as he spoke under his breath. He gives you a sarcastic look, his eyes heavy lidded and eyebrows poised smugly. The edges of his mouth play at a smile.  
You felt a familiar rush, the same as the first time you met Ronaldo, the first time he held your hand, the first time you hugged, the first time you kissed his cheek… By this time your cheeks started to flush a vibrant pink. “You okay there babe?” Ronaldo asked tauntingly. Babe?! Your cheeks grew redder, and you cleared your throat nervously. “Yeah, it’s just a bit dusty and the AC hasn’t kicked in… I’m a bit warm, heheh… Hey, why don’t we put this window to good use?” You stepped forward, hiding your embarrassed blush from Ronaldo and undid the latch at the side of the window. On mechanical hinges it carefully lowered like a drawbridge, its great glass pane extending like a balcony over the softly carved dunes below. A cool ocean breeze salted both you and Ronaldo’s faces. Big grey stormclouds teased the horizon of the sea, rolling and poking the waves straining desperately to reach them, but never waiting for the wave to catch up. A frigid gale of wind dragged (h/l) (h/c) hair along your neck, gently tickling the soft, fine hairs that lay there. You smoothed your hand over them to get rid of of the tingling sensation and turned to look at Ronaldo. He inhaled deeply and stood parallel to the wind, looking both at the horizon and somewhere farther. He was trying to savor the moment.  
     “This reminds me of a storm that passed through a couple years ago. I was about thirteen, and Peedee was still a little kid. Dad took one look at the storm coming and closed the fry shop. He gathered a couple potatoes and told us kids to get upstairs to the apartment. When we got inside, he smiled and told us he was going to teach us what we couldn’t learn in the restaurant; how to cook with love. ‘Takes too long,’ he said. ‘Not efficient for business.’ Dad always made time for us, though. He had us dice the potatoes into cubes rather than fries and put the fancy truffle oil into a saucepan.” He paused and looked at you for a moment. An idea was bouncing about behind his glasses. “Say, why don’t I just show you? Do you happen to have potatoes, oil, and spices?” “As a matter of fact, yes.” You said, leaving the peaceful window and heading toward the kitchen. Ronaldo followed.  
     “I have potatoes, butter, and my mom made me take practically the entire spice rack here for the summer. She always told me that ‘the fastest way to a man’s…’” You stopped yourself before you could go any further. You were overcome with embarrassment yet again. Ew! It would be so weird of you to say that. “Heart is through his stomach.” Ronaldo finished your sentence without skipping a beat. You turned to him in surprise. He smiled at you mischievously. “Does the saying apply to women too?” Your blood rushed to your face instead of going to your brain to think. “Uh, maybe, theres another one, like um...” Ronaldo laughed, his eyes crinkled and head thrown back a bit with the force of it. But rather than making you feel ashamed or humiliated like you expected, his unjudgmental laugh made you feel safe and forgiven. You joined in, your gracefully tinkling laugh mingling with his low pitched one, creating a sort of melody that had been playing in the back of your mind for ages. You quieted down and continued on your way to the kitchen, Ronaldo now by your side rather than trailing behind you. You took this time to admire the strong lines of his shoulders and back, delicately but firmly constructed by years of real work. You appreciated your shyness, or else you may have kissed him right there. Somehow, you held back until you reached the kitchen.  
Ronaldo took in the vast space, admiring gleaming metal and tile at every corner. He crossed to the refrigerator. “May I?” he inquired, gesturing to the fridge and then toward the whole kitchen. “Go wild.” He pulled out two small potatoes and butter from their respective drawers, and after thinking about it a second, a bottle of lemon juice. You leaned against the sink counter and watched quietly. “The spice rack is in the cabinet over the stove.” You said, anticipating his next question. “Great, thanks.” He acknowledged your comment and carefully selected rosemary, thyme, parsley, dill, and salt. With the ease of a seasoned cook, he boiled a pot of water; sliced butter; and placed it in a saucepan all in under a minute. Your mouth would be open if you weren’t breathing through your nose, savoring the aroma of the slowly melting butter. Ronaldo didn’t seem to think much of this skill, because you were certain that if he did, he would do it more flamboyantly.  
     You walked to the stove to examine his work up close. He took pinches of each spice and added them to the butter, sometimes returning to a previous spice to create the ratio he desired. The entire kitchen began to smell heavenly. “(Y/n), could you go and wash these potatoes for me, please?” He gestured vaguely to the potatoes waiting on the counter. You glanced briefly at his face and saw how focused he was on the food. “Best not to interrupt the _artiste_ while he works,” you thought as you picked up the tubers. “On it.” You gently cleansed the potatoes in the sink, watching the water turn from dirty brown to crystal clear as you scrubbed them squeaky clean. You dried them off and brought them back to Ronaldo, who was still stirring the herb concoction. He glanced at them for a second before speaking again.  
     “Nice job. Can you bring a cutting board and butcher knife here please?” “Of course.” You replied, grabbing the cutting board from the drawer and a large knife from the knife block. You decided to play a little prank on Ronaldo. “Muahahaha!” You bellowed to the best of your ability. “Now that he is totally distracted by cooking, I will kill Ronaldo with this knife!” You said in a villainous manner. Ronaldo turned around quizzically, having not totally caught on. He didn’t seem actually scared,however. He was much stronger than you, after all. “Or maybe he just trusts you.” Said that annoying voice in the back of your head. “Aww darn,” You said disappointedly, “I narrated my evil plot out loud again.” Ronaldo got the joke and chuckled. You giggled yourself and handed him the knife and cutting board. “Good one. Thanks dear.” He took a potato and diced it into  bite sized cubes in 20 seconds flat. An involuntary “wow” escaped you. “Took me about a year to learn to dice that quickly. Peedee and Dad used to have a lot of unsymmetrical potato dinners before I got it down.” He diced the next one in 15 seconds. “Now you’re just showing off.” You said, crossing your arms and smirking. “Perhaps.” He said, smirking right back.  
He slid the cubes off of the cutting board and into the now boiling water. You both were quiet for a moment while you watched the bubbles fight the potatoes before eventually being subdued into a quiet simmer. Ronaldo turned toward you while still keeping his eyes on the bubbling pots. “It’ll be a couple more minutes before it’s done. Would you mind setting the table?” “Oh, definitely. Will two serving plates and water glasses suffice?” You knew it would be, but you wanted to hear him speak again. “Sure, that’ll be fine.” You took your most suitable plates and elegant water glasses from the china cabinet and set them up on the carpet near the window. After stepping back and looking at your display, you realized it was missing something. You took the tablecloth off of your seldom-used dinner table and spread it out like a picnic blanket. All the while, you listened to the pleasant sound of buttered herbs popping and Ronaldo humming a sweet, slow song you didn’t recognize. “How lucky am I? A cute guy in my kitchen making us dinner to eat over a seaside view.” You thought happily as you returned to the kitchen to tell Ronaldo you had finished.  
     “I’m done setting up the table. Is the food almost ready?” You hadn’t planned to ask the latter question, but the food smelled so delicious, that you couldn’t wait much longer. “Actually, you’re right on time. They’re done right now.” Ronaldo turned off the stove and gave the mixtures a final stir. He smiled at you as he took the pot of potatoes to the sink to drain the water out. “We should eat it now. It’s best served fresh.” You carefully grasped the pan of buttered herbs and followed Ronaldo to the window. Ronaldo stopped to admire the sight that lay before him. “This looks really cozy.” You watched him inhale slowly, and you saw again that he was trying to remember the moment. He set the potatoes down between the two plates and you poured the buttered herb sauce over it. He stirred it with the wooden spoon and you both watched the aromatic steam flow lazily up and out of the window, mingling with the salty sea breeze.  
     Once the sauce had been evenly distributed, Ronaldo meticulously scooped equal portions onto the plates. “Do you want the extra sauce?” He held up the pot inquisitively. “Yes please, unless you want it…” You began graciously. He shook his head gently and smiled. Smiles seemed to come easily to him. He scraped the remaining buttered herbs onto your potatoes and patted them a bit to spread it around. “Bon appetit… Oh!” He exclaimed suddenly. “I almost forgot the most important ingredient.” You cocked your head. “Love.” He blew a kiss to the potatoes and stirred it in. He deftly spooned out a portion onto your plate. “Thank you. I appreciate you making dinner.” He shrugged and smiled. You and Ronaldo settled onto your stomachs, facing the window, and propped yourselves up on your elbows. You smiled and clinked forks with Ronaldo.  
You sank your fork into an inviting looking cube, already impressed with its firm yet giving texture. Before your tongue could register the flavor, you found great pleasure biting into it. The crispy skin, slick with sauce, gave a bit of resistance before bursting between your teeth. Your tongue scooped it up and pressed it against the roof of your mouth, squishing the potato’s delicate flesh into each corner of your mouth. The show really started once the flavor hit you. All the herbs blended together into a familiar, but still different taste that you couldn’t get enough of. Each chew brought out a single herb’s flavor. First was the flowery, calming rosemary. Then, the vivacious dill filled your palate and nostrils with a savory, spicy flavor. The thyme and parsley worked together to deliver a charming, seductive flavor. In the background, the butter and salt warmed your mouth and cover the areas the herbs could not. It may have been your imagination, but you thought you detected just a trace of love. As you swallowed, you were almost a bit sad to feel the flavor ebb away.  
     “My lord, Ronaldo, this is delicious! Did you really make this with just the ingredients there in the kitchen?” You turned your head to see Ronaldo smiling warmly, clearly taking enjoyment in watching you savor his cooking. “I had a bit of help.” He tapped your foot with his and tilted his head toward you. “Aww, don’t be modest. It was all you.” Ronaldo’s chest puffed out almost imperceptibly. “Well, we’d better finish up. The breeze is cooling the potatoes a bit quicker than they would normally.” Nodding your assent, you turned back to your plate and began eating again.  
     Each bite was better than the last, and not a single thing was disappointing or less than you expected. Between the ocean breeze gently caressing your hair, the amazing meal before you, the scenic landscape seen through a luxurious window, and most importantly, the person beside you and the connection you felt with him, you couldn’t suppress a smile. You were overtaken with a nostalgic, romantic feeling and couldn’t just let it be. In a moment of sudden boldness, you pushed your plate to the side and wrapped your arms around Ronaldo’s broad shoulders.  
     When he didn’t move for a second, you began to feel that you’d made a mistake. Just before you recoiled from him, he too pushed his plate away and began to move. Slowly and deliberately, he rolled onto his side and pulled you into a warm embrace. You lay there in his arms for a couple moments, relishing the soft warmth he emanated. He sat up, pulling you along with him, and maneuvered into a criss-cross position with you sitting between his hips and his crossed heels, your own feet planted outside of the circle, slightly behind him. You fit together like puzzle pieces. One hand still resting on your back, Ronaldo reached up and removed his glasses, setting them down to the side without breaking eye contact. His smoldering gaze, no longer restrained by glasses, invoked a small inhale of breath from you. His eyes narrowed and became half-lidded. He leaned toward you, at the same time gently pulling you toward him gingerly with an undertone of desire, and kissed you.  
     The word kiss doesn’t do his skills justice. He pressed your body against his, making you crane your head upwards to meet his lips. You felt Ronaldo’s hands using just a bit of pressure to keep you in place, one between your shoulder blades and the other on the small of your back. You hooked one arm over his shoulder and slid your free hand up the nape of his neck and into his wild, curly hair. You twisted a ringlet between your pointer and middle finger like a cigarette and kissed him deeper. You felt your shoulders release a tension you hadn’t known was building. You pulled away from each other and shared an affectionate smile before Ronaldo’s eyes darkened again and you were pulled back into the kiss.  
     He kissed you passionately and moved his hands just below your shoulder blades and pulled you toward him a bit more forcefully than before. Your eyes flicked open as you felt your breasts pressed against Ronaldo’s broad chest and fluttered closed again as you gave in to the sensation. Subconsciously, you started to draw your legs in and wrap around his waist, bringing your hips closer together. Ronaldo folded his legs inward as well to fill the gap. He began to ramp up the speed and intensity of his kisses and swayed back and forth each thrust stimulating your breasts and hips. You were lost in ecstasy, enjoying every moment as it came. A feeling of lust like you had never felt before quickly built up inside you.  
     When you couldn’t hold it back any longer, your hips thrusted and your legs tightened around Ronaldo’s waist involuntarily. You leaned forward to press against his firm chest again, but found that he began to pull away. “Not today.” You were still lightly panting. “Why…?” you began. Ronaldo shook his head. “It’s just going to be a while, dear. I want to, too, you know.” He looked you up and down, examining your every curve and line with palpable lust. You got goosebumps although you’d been kissing him just a minute ago. He closed his eyes and looked back to your face. “Just a little longer. I'm... not ready yet.”  
He gently lifted you from his lap and laid down on his back under the tablecloth blanket. He opened one coal black eye and gazed at you satisfiedly. “Care to join me?” he said quietly. You nodded and crawled under the covers and laid next to him. After a moment of adjusting, you got into a comfortable position. Ronaldo splayed on his back, one arm resting on your back as you laid on your stomach, snuggled into the crook of his arm with one hand on his chest and the other curled beside you. You couldn’t help but feel disappointed as you lay motionless, so close to Ronaldo, yet so far from where you wanted to be with him. Every part of your body ached to kiss him again and give in to your body’s desires, but you knew it was impossible.  
     You drew your chin down, toward your chest, and let out a sigh through your nose. You intended to be subtle, but most things didn’t go over Ronaldo’s head. He reached over and tilted your chin up, toward his face, and smiled. In his deep, charming voice, he whispered, “Good things come to those who wait.” He tucked your hair behind your ear and caressed your back tenderly before gradually slowing to a stop. “Well, that didn’t help at all.” You thought to yourself. Now, you wanted him even more. However, you respected his wishes to wait and tried to be content in just cuddling. It worked as well as you expected. You felt his breathing and heartbeats slow into the lazy rhythm of a midday nap. When you were certain he was asleep, you carefully slung a leg over his hips and gave him one last squeeze before you drifted off to sleep.  
…  
     You were at a carnival, sitting in a Ferris wheel, a light breeze toying with your hair. The soda you were drinking smattered your face with tiny drops of frigid water as its bubbles fizzed. Suddenly, a big drop jumped out of the cup and splashed onto your nose. That wasn’t normal. Another drop landed on your cheek, shaking your subconscious with its strange sensation. You woke up in a daze, not sure where you were. You began to push yourself to one side to get out of bed. However, you found what you were sleeping on was softer than your usual mattress. Blinking the sleep away from your eyes, the hazy image below you came into focus.  
Sleeping peacefully below you was Ronaldo, angelic in the soft light of the storm raging just beyond the open window. You looked at the angrily broiling sky and another fat droplet landed on your recently exercised lips. That must have been what woke you up. You started to sit up to wipe the drop off of your face when a strong arm pulled you back down. “Hmm.” Ronaldo hummed, pulling you toward him while still sound asleep. When he’d successfully gotten you to lie back down, he smiled softly and drifted back into deep sleep. Maybe I could wait for the rain to wake him up,” You thought, beginning to doze off yourself. “After all, good things come to those who wait."

**Author's Note:**

> Who did I write this for? For me! In case the amphibinoids turn my body into a host vessel! Reader, reader, reader! You gotta look st the big picture here! Something cute is finally being written by ME!


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